Hell is Born
by hoppnhorn
Summary: One day she was Helen Gates. The next, she was Hell. *ONE SHOT* A quick story about the day that changed Helen's future. Rated M for Sex, Language, and Violence. Using my OC from "A House Divided" "Jacked" and "Three Grand and a Million Years" Billy/OC


**I don't even remember what triggered this. Something I was reading on the news about a teacher and a student…anyway. Inspiration comes from the most RANDOM places for me, and this story just happened. It's nothing mysterious; if you've read "Three Grand and a Million Years", you know this happened. But I never really got into the details. Plus, my baby needed a birth story. And this is Hell's birth. SO I hope you enjoy. :)**

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><p>She didn't know what had prompted her abrupt change in style. There really wasn't a plain motivation behind it. She didn't want unnecessary attention from boys; most of them were pimply morons anyway. And she definitely wasn't embracing her femininity. One day she had just ditched the big t-shirts and baggy jeans, choosing something else. What was the big deal? After all, they were just clothes.<p>

Clothes that made her feel like a complete badass.

Helen crossed her legs under her desk, smoothing her hands over her thighs. Yup, her bare thighs. Her skirt was barely dress code and she enjoyed the fact that it broke the rules when she sat down, but went un-punishable when she stood. Rules were made to be broken and she'd figured out how.

The denim skirt was dark and distressed around the bottom, but that was because she'd taken a pocket knife to the hem. Right below her knees, black boots hugged her calves to the floor. They weren't heels, but nasty, thick-soled boots. She was positive the beauties could kick in a few skulls if need be, and that's why she'd loved them.

Danny Russo, the wide receiver for the varsity football team, was getting an eyeful of Helen's creamy legs and she watched him practically salivate over his desk. It was pathetic, really, how easily men could be manipulated with a flash of skin. It was the ultimate Ace in her sleeve: her looks. She didn't like to use it, but she knew it was there, waiting if she had no other cards to play.

"Hey Russo, take a picture." He suddenly noticed her face, smirking like the jerk she knew he was.

"Baby, I will do whatever you like." The teacher at the front of the classroom was listening idly, and he stood over his desk, bracing both hands on the wooden surface.

"Gates, Russo, we got a problem?" Danny immediately put on his all-American face and gave the instructor a gleaming smile.

"No, Mr. Ashmore. I just had a question." Helen snorted, uncrossing her legs and sitting off the back of her seat.

"Yeah, he wanted ta know if he could eat my snatch." The room erupted in laughter and Mr. Ashmore's face grew to a dark maroon.

"Helen…" He tried to contain his fury, no doubt suppressing many curses in her name. "If you don't like the attention, why do you wear the skirt?" She smiled and it was immediately obvious that his question was a mistake.

"Don't ya know, Matty?" He paled when she stood, straightening her tight, V-neck tee to accent the breasts beneath. "I want you to look at me, and then go home and jerk off—"

"HELEN!" He shouted before she could finish, grabbing her upper arm and pulling her to the door. "Detention! Now!" She smirked, yanking her arm from his grasp. She got to leave early. Score.

"Oh Matty, I thought you'd never ask." Helen moaned, winking as she slipped out of the door. The class was holding in fits of laughter, terrified of being punished for merely watching. But Helen didn't care about being sent to detention. It was a free pass to leave school. So she set a path to the parking lot. Home before noon; now that was a good Friday.

Grinning to herself, she strut down the hall. It was empty, but the sound her boots made on the tile floor made her feel mighty. Nothing could stop her now. She owned the system. In a few weeks, she could stop going to class altogether. She'd start going to the city instead, start looking for someone to take her under their wing.

"Ya modelin' for me, Gates?" She didn't even turn her head, her grin only widening. Footsteps started up behind her and Helen pretended not to care.

"Do I look like a goddamn model, Darley?" Billy snorted. Nope, she was not the model type.

"Nah, your ass is too big." Helen whirled and Billy didn't hesitate, stepping straight into her face.

"Fuck you, Darley." She snarled, hiding the fit of grins that tickled across her lips. He was the only one she actually enjoyed fighting with. And he was the only one who fought back hard enough.

"You did, darlin'." He growled, lifting a lip in an angry sneer. "And ya did a fantastic job."

It was too much.

They both broke out in stifled laughter, losing their angry expressions. It had been over two years since they'd spoken alone, actually alone. Most of their interactions had been shouted insults across a parking lot or muttered remarks in mutual detention. No one suspected they were friendly, and they hadn't been in a very long time. "How ya been, Gates?" She shrugged.

"Good as this shit life gets, I guess." Billy nodded, sighing a breath from his nose.

"I hear that." She glanced him up and down. He hadn't changed too drastically in two years, but he seemed bigger each time she saw him. His once lean frame was beefy with new muscles and his clothes seemed to fit like a glove. In all the good ways. His hair had continued to grow, uncut, into a ponytail and his mouth was outlined in a darker, mature goatee.

"How 'bout you, Darley. How's the big bad drug dealer?" He flashed a stunning smile, batting his eyelashes over deep blue eyes.

"I don't know what ya talkin' about. I work on cars." Billy held up his hands, revealing calloused palms. "See, I'm an honest, hard worker." Helen had to hold in the urge to swallow. Those hands were rough and experienced.

"So that's the story ya tell the cops, huh?" She nodded, feigning contemplation. "I like it." Billy let out a small laugh, lowering his hands. Then a moment of silence passed between them, bringing up the feelings that neither knew how to express.

"Ya look good, Gates." He purred, giving her face a longer study. She shivered, watching his eyes linger on her mouth the longest. Billy was the one boy –man, he was definitely a man– that could do that to her. Maybe it was his looks and his seduction methods; but it also had something to do with his genuine interest in her. He wasn't staring down her shirt when they talked; he was staring in her eyes. And when he started to purr his thick, deep voice in her ears, he was eyeing her mouth.

"Ya look pretty good yourself, Darley." She was giving in and she knew it. It had been too good not to want it again. Even though they'd been very inexperienced their first go round, it made her weak at the knees to recall. The memory of his moans and his warm, soft mouth put aside all her previous dislike of Billy Darley. And now all she could think about was how much she wanted him again.

"Yeah? That why ya been stayin' away?" She smirked. He'd noticed. All of the parties and opportunities she'd had to have Billy again, she'd turned and run. Not literally. Helen Gates didn't run from anything. But she didn't like the way he was constantly surrounded by girls. If she approached, she'd just be another one of his stupid whores. And that was something Helen would never be.

"I've been busy." She offered up, grinning at the feebleness of her own excuse. Billy chuckled.

"Too busy for me?" Her heart sped up. He was saying all the right things, giving her just enough wiggle room to get what she wanted. They were playing a game and he was letting her win. Now that was a switch.

"I'm free now." She said the words quieter than she'd intended. Maybe it was nerves, or maybe she was hesitating. Regardless, her stomach was squirming with anticipation. She was setting herself up for rejection, something she couldn't deal with. A corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked grin.

"What'd ya have in mind?" All of her self-consciousness melted away and she grabbed the t-shirt beneath his jacket, pulling him a little closer with a quick tug.

"A fast, mean screw in the bathroom." His grin was gone, replaced with the dangerous smolder she'd watched from afar. The game was over and she had definitely won. They covered the few feet from the hall to bathroom at a near run, quickly vanishing from sight.

He had her pinned to the wall before she could even glance around to see if the men's room was empty. Billy ran his hands up her thighs, shoving the skirt away while he lunged for her mouth.

Helen had forgotten what a good kisser he was. While she lost herself in the skill of his lips, Billy was hard at work, ripping at his fly and belt. Turning to face the wall, she grinned as he growled, pressing his body flush to her back.

"Fuck, Helen." She considered his panted, hurried exclamation a compliment and rolled her hips back into his crotch. He turned her neck, rewarding her with a hard, consuming kiss. It was everything she'd ever imagined it'd be. She'd created a monster of a lover; and now she was going to reap the benefits.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" The two stopped, staring at the entrance. Principle Givens stood in the doorway, his eyes bulging out of his head. The sight had to be a good one. Billy had been only moments away from sinking his exposed erection into Helen's ready body, her skirt shoved all the way up her waist and leaving nothing to the imagination. As they remained frozen, Billy's jeans hung on his ass, sliding down slowly from their perch.

"Isn't it obvious?" Helen growled, not embarrassed but furious. Billy laughed and smacked her ass. And the principle erupted.

"BOTH OF YOU, OUT!" Helen stood up straight, pushing her skirt back into place while Billy rezipped his jeans. "I WANT YOU BOTH OUT OF MY SCHOOL!" Helen snorted, approaching the balding man without a lick of fear.

"Stop yellin', asshole. I'm gone." He trembled in anger, glaring at her as she passed. Then he shot out a finger, pointing it at Billy's face.

"AND YOU! YOU AREN'T EVEN A STUDENT!" Helen raised an eyebrow and glanced back at him, crossing her arms.

"Then what the fuck are ya doin' here, Darley?" The principle whirled.

"I SAID OUT, MISS GATES!" She bared her teeth in an escalating snarl.

"And I said, STOP FUCKIN' YELLIN' YOU BALD BITCH!" Standing in the hall, her voice rang off the walls. Billy chuckled from the bathroom, strutting out the door to join her.

"Had ta clean out my locker." He purred, taking her face in a hand. Placing a hard kiss on her lips, he held her in place until she wrenched away.

"Your locker, my ass." She murmured, grinning.

"I want both of you out of this school or I will be calling the authorities." Principle Givens hissed the command from the doorway, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Helen rolled her eyes, beginning her trek down the hall to the exit.

"Call the cops, ya fuckin' idiot." She marched her way down the hall, passing several teachers as they stared inquisitively out of their doorways. Shooting Mr. Ashmore a wink, she grinned when he flushed a deep scarlet. "Touch yourself for me, Matty."

Then she slammed out of the double doors, crossing the parking lot to her dumpy little car. Looking back for the first time, she saw Billy do the same, stopping in front of the school to light a cigarette. And they stood there, staring at each in a stalemate. What now? Should she chase him? Or would he chase her? Before she gave in, Helen slipped into her car and closed her eyes.

She would have chased him, and that wasn't good.

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><p>The bastard was sleeping in his chair when she got home. It was only noon, and beer cans were strewn all around the recliner, revealing his level of intoxication. Ever since her foster mother, Georgia Casner, had "fallen down the stairs", her grieving husband had been spending the life insurance money on getting wasted in his armchair.<p>

Before, he'd been an asshole who liked to yell. Now, he was an asshole who liked to hurt, whether it be verbally or physically. Thankfully, Helen had been old enough to fend for herself when his new habit arose. She made herself scarce when he was awake enough to go after her and that wasn't often. So she mostly just checked his pulse, making sure he hadn't tripped into the afterlife while she'd been gone.

"The school called." He growled, his eyes still closed as she leaned over him to check for signs of life. Helen retracted from his stench, wrinkling her nose in revulsion.

"Did ya learn anything?" She asked, crossing the room towards the kitchen. Most of the time, she kept the house pretty clean. But he would make a mess for her during the day, leaving it there for her to pick up when she got back. She hated being someone's maid, but it beat living in a pigsty.

"You a fuckin' whore now?" He grunted. Helen snorted, throwing a beer can from the sink into the trashcan.

"Does it matter? Have a beer and you'll forget all about it." Shaking her head, she dismissed his judgment. He had no right to ask her questions.

"Is that what ya like? Fuckin'?" His voice was alarmingly close and she whirled, backing away as he held himself up in the frame of the kitchen door.

"Sit down, old man. Before ya fall down." She warned, her fear climbing at the look in his eyes. He rarely looked that awake anymore.

"You're a whore that likes fuckin', huh?" He lurched forward and she held up a finger.

"Get the fuck back."

"It's ok." He stuttered. "You'll like it." Her chest seized in fear. He had been the oldest villain of her life. Ever since she was two, he'd been the boogieman in her closet. He'd been the imminent threat. The way he looked at her, the way he'd watched her as she'd matured, his intentions had always been clear. Her instinct had always been right. In the back of her mind, she'd known he would do this.

Maybe that's why she'd been so scared when Georgia had died.

"Get the fuck away." She snarled, her hands skimming across the counter for something to hit him with. Anything.

Her hand closed around a wooden handle and she whirled the object in front of her. It was a long, sharp knife.

"You gonna carve me like a turkey, whore?" He was laughing, watching her fear grow up into her eyes. Helen stared at the gleaming knife. If she used it, she'd probably kill him. He took a step forward; and her decision was made.

Swinging blindly, she closed her eyes.

His voice shattered her ears as he roared. When she dared to look, he was gingerly touching his abdomen, watching as bright scarlet started to seep through his grey t-shirt.

"Ya fuckin bitch." He whispered, studying the blood on his hands. "YA FUCKIN' BITCH!" Charging, he put his hands out in front of him, fingers curled into claws. Helen screamed and lunged, gasping when she felt the blade plunge into his flesh. It was an unsettling feeling, the jolt of the handle when the object tore through the skin. A shudder shot through her body and her breath froze in her throat.

His gagging was what brought her back. Where a breath should have been, a bubbling sound gurgled from his throat. Out of impulse, she pulled the knife from his chest, shaking at the sensation from his flesh. He sank to his knees in front of her and Helen stared at the blade in her hand, the steel coated in a fine, red gleam.

"Bitch." He gurgled the insult, glaring up at her. Helen studied the knife for a second more before she shot it forward again, embedding it deep in his shoulder. She let out a cry with him, her body erupting in tingles. But this time it wasn't unpleasant. It was a powerful feeling. She was strong.

"Fuck you, asshole." Her voice was throaty and yet still shaking. Tears teetered in the corners of her eyes. "I hope ya burn." His hand shot up to the knife and she tugged, not only ripping it from his shoulder but slicing it along his grip. He screamed in agony and Helen let the tears fall. She wasn't sad. She was home. This feeling, this power; this is what she'd wanted. This is what she'd been searching for with her tough talk, her short skirts, and thick boots. With a blade in her hand, Helen finally had the strength she'd been craved.

Someone must have heard something, heard him screaming, because the cops were there in minutes. Her hands were still covered in his blood as she stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen floor, grinning silently to herself with tears running down her face.

She didn't regret it. In fact, years later, the only thing she regretted was that he hadn't died. As the cops had hauled her away, she'd laughed and kicked, giving them as much hell as she could. Because that's what she was, Hell.

And Hell was there to stay.

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><p><strong>Hope you liked. I made this a oneshot because it doesn't really fit with any of my other stories centered around Helen and Billy, and I couldn't NOT put it up. I love them too much. <strong>

**Love to my faithfuls. I know you're still there. :)**


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